bakerstreet | Master/Mistress and Familiar

Master/Mistress and Familiar

The Master/Familiar Meme

"In European folklore and folk-belief of the Medieval and Early Modern periods, familiar spirits (sometimes referred to simply as 'familiars') were supernatural entities believed to assist witches and cunning folk in their practice of magic. According to the records of the time, they would appear in numerous guises, often as an animal, but also at times as a human or humanoid figure, and were described as 'clearly defined, three-dimensional… forms, vivid with colour and animated with movement and sound' by those alleging to have come into contact with them, unlike later descriptions of ghosts with their 'smoky, undefined form[s]'."

Everybody needs a sidekick. This includes those who may have a little help of their own in the form of magic - witches, warlocks, mages, sages, casters, magicians...whatever you want to call them, they have a bit more juice than your average Joe. Luckily, the job comes with a built-in assistant: a familiar, or a helper spirit. The familiar serves as a guide to their magical "Master" of their choice, helping them out of tight spots and being their companion for life. Sometimes, they come in the form of animals, like dogs and especially cats. Some don't bother with this, though, and just stay in their true humanoid forms. The bond between familiar and master is one of intensity, and they know each other completely. Most familiars even have a telepathic link to their masters. That helps them keep an eye on them. Of course, given this closeness-beyond-closeness, it's easy to imagine a master and familiar as soulmates, and with familiars having a human form...well, intimacy seems like a natural option.

Too bad relationships of that kind between master and familiar are strictly forbidden. Surely, that rule is always followed.

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character, stating your preferences (ex: F/M, open to all, etc). Also, be sure to remember and put whether your character will be witch/master, familiar, or if they can serve as both. There is no "set" type for any of the roles. Masters don't have to be dominate (ineffectual witches have always been a cute trope), familiars aren't passive or submissive, and so on. It's not the same as BDSM...though your character could bring that into it if they'd like.
Comment around to other characters, playing out your forbidden master/familiar ~love~ or what have you.

PROMPTS

The Familiar Chooses the Master: The first meeting. You may be new to the craft (or someone who needs a new familiar), and someone has been drawn to you.
Setting the Ground Rules: You need to figure out how this is going to work. Where can you hide this woman/man in your apartment, if need be?
Getting to Know You: Magic/power isn't all fun and games. You need to find out how to work together so you don't accidentally blow everything up in your faces.
Helping Out: Familiars have a lot of neat powers that can be a boon around the house...and around the town.
Danger Zone: Your feelings for each other are blurring, which is a big no-no. Do you even realize that the bond is deepening to a new level?
Confession: Things have gotten heavy and you have to let your bond mate know you see them as more.
Bad Romance: The familiar in this relationship isn't treated as equal. They're a slave to their master!
Telepathy: The mental bond between. Explore it or use it to get out of trouble...
Trouble is a Friend of Mine: Speaking of! Your familiar/master is danger, and there's nothing that can keep you from saving them.
Intimacy: The obligatory smut option. Though romance between familiar and master is not allowed, many find the allure too much, and the bond does lend itself to members seeking comfort in each other. After all, they know you better than anyone else.
You're Taken?: You're in love with a master or a familiar...they're just not yours. Oops! Maybe you can find some way to break your bonds so you can be together.
Breaking Up is Hard to Do: It is hard, especially between master and familiar. In fact, it can be downright painful...physically and mentally!
Sending You Away for Your Own Good: You're distancing yourself from the other member of your bond, and it's because you're headed towards destruction.
Everybody Knows: The other members of your community have found out you've broken the ultimate taboo and are WITH your master/familiar. This is bad. This is very, very bad. Punishment bad. Separation bad. Perhaps even death bad.
Happy Ending: Somehow, you've escaped the confines of the world that doesn't understand, and you're able to live together without fear.
WILDCARD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The Mistress, definitely. MF&FF both welcome, shippy and non shippy also fine! ]

[ Oftentimes, the witches seek familiars. Powerful creatures to tame, to bind, to harness for fuelling their own magic to greater heights. They track, or summon, or trap; they weave spells and potions and sacrifices to entice themselves to them. ]

[Sometimes, a familiar may seek a witch. ]

[ It's less common overall, the union offering less benefits to their side, though there are certainly perks -- some of which few know about. A great magical deed may get their attention, some may fall for great beauty, others will seek certain goals or determination that aligns with their own. ]

[ Squalo doesn't concern himself with things like that; had anyone asked what he is doing patrolling the island's shore, he would perhaps have no answer. There is no great plan; as ever, he follows his gut, his instinct, the way his magic sings at a particular memory. ]

[ He had seen the sea-witch some months, perhaps years ago. Probably at a different shore, probably during a time of conflict, but she'd been one with the ocean then, wind in her hair and raging waves in her voice, washing away a coastal fortress like a monsoon. He finds himself drawn to it. He wants to see it again -- or at the very least, see the one capable of raining such devastating splendor. ]

[ It shouldn't take long for the fishermen and locals to start whispering about a sleek silver shark, the sort that never comes to these waters. Perhaps he'll nab one or a few, just to make sure to get their attention, perhaps to beg for their ruler's help. After all, it is her he hopes to meet, and so he waits, weaving between the rocks near the shore, his very essence calling out toward the storm. ]

[ After the storm, after the destruction, after the death - for a long time, there is silence. She had brought down unfathomable chaos upon all who crossed her, tricked her, hurt her and brought suffering to her people.

And then she laid waste to more than all of them combined. In the wake of such moments, there is silence. There is a shocked muted arrangement of being being moved from her mortal throne to that of a saint - which is exactly, more like putting aside a predator that has become wild. Respected, admired even but in the wake of such horror, there is only fearfulness.

Perhaps that is why when the strange shark appears along the coastal villages, it is not her more approachable siblings that are sought. Instead the one who can too claim to spill blood. Their hurried whisper that they need one who is one with the sea, yet is sharp themselves to go. It had been so long, since anyone called on her for something like this, that she cannot help but find herself curious. Was it an omen? News brought for the Holy Father? She could not say.

Her concerns like others are long since gone, as even in her finery she walks into the shallows where the Shark had last been spotted. The silks swirl about her, heavy with water. But to call to the strange creature she knows only one thing to do. ]

Brother of the Deep. You seek audience with your cousins on the shore, come, may it be granted.

[In summoning, and in mutual respect of her nature to his she lifts one arm, pulling the sleeve back - and draws a dagger up in the other. The slice across her forearm is quick, and the blood wells immediately to splash into the waist deep water. ]

Edited 2025-05-19 13:37 (UTC)

[ It is known that silence often preludes another storm. It is a hope of his, perhaps tinged a little by the anxiety inevitable in the face of such destruction, but he savors it. It makes him feel alive. ]

[ Finally, she is here. ]

[ The magic calls him before the blood does, the presence of power thrumming through his core and resonating with his own. But it's the blood that tells the details of the story, that draws him to exactly the right spot where he watches the woman -- if an embodiment of the sea itself can truly be fit into a word as small as that -- wade into the waves fearlessly, calling out to him. ]

[ Of course, he answers. ]

[ His form is long, but sleek enough that he can swim freely this close to the shore. He approaches, slow but steady, and circles her, mouth slightly open to smell the taste of crimson even more clearly. It's intoxicating, just as he'd expected. He lets his silver side brush against her leg, a fin gently catch in the floating silks, tugging lightly before slipping free, his back rise out of the calmly surging water. ]

[ Almost as if he's encouraging her to touch him, to prompt an exchange in a more compatible form. ]

[ magnificent. That is the only word that could be given to such a creature. The raw power of him, the silver that glimmers finer than polished metal could ever hope to muster.

It pulls, a longing, a wonder. This is no ordinary beast. She ought to be afraid. What was she but mortal flesh? Yet, nothing of the sort fills her. It would be a good death this way, if she earned it.

So her hands reach out, leaning forward. ]

Silver one, what brings you here? What is it you seek? Tell me, and if it is mine to do so, I shall grant it.

[ Leaning forward as he circled in front of her, she laid her hands gently onto his side. Brushing down his body as he swam.]

Is it just so I may admire your beauty? You surely do not need me for that, the sun itself must know it is blessed to see you shimmer.

Edited 2025-05-19 14:57 (UTC)

[ Magnificent. The word seems to be on both their minds, perhaps for slightly different reasons, but with the same genuinity. ]

[ The sky above churns, clouds slowly forming a spiral, an eye of the storm with no storm to speak of at the moment; the water before her rises -- more than could be considered normal in this weather, and yet not stark enough to tell without a doubt that something is stirring, as if a huge creature were trying to rise from the depths but retreated before the water could break over it. There's a glimmer of something in that water hill before it dissipates, however; something ancient, like the ocean itself sighing a deep breath. ]

[ The skin under Gilia's hands changes. Where it had been hard and coarse, sharp as sanpaper, it becomes smoother, almost human-like, though a hint of roughness remains. Something swirls in the water, too, though rather than silken robes, it's... ]

[ ...hair?.. ]

[ A hand catches hers, bringing it out of the water as his other form rises with it, slim yet strong, human and yet... not quite. He's too pale, more like the white belly of a fish than a man's skin, but it doesn't look sickly any more than the moon does. His eyebrows, lashes, even his eyes themselves are just as pale, almost glowy with a tint of silver. Long, stark white hair that extends below his waist, fanning slowly in the water. The hand holding up her wrist has claws, almost talons, but it holds her gently, not breaking skin aside from the cut she had made herself. ]

[ At this point, she's ought to know what he is. ]

[ He brings her hand to rest against the side of his face, his nose hovering just over the trickling crimson, oddly intimate, as if he's about to kiss it away, but he pauses and turns his eyes to her face, as if waiting for permission. ]

[Her eyes widen as he transforms, and there is little that surprises her anymore, with all that she has seen and done. Yet wonder finds her. Had the Sea heard her lonely prayers, and granted her a companion? She could not deserve yet - yet he transforms anyway. Her heart thudding in her chest as he rises up out of the waves, as if formed of silver and seafoam itself.

Her heart thuds, beating like war drums. A familiar, a companion not just to body but to soul. She knows one cannot find them, not demand them, they are granted, given, like stars falling and just as rare. ]

You... you honour me.

[ The word does not form, as he holds her wounded arm up to himself. How could she refuses. Her pulse thumbs in her throat again, trying to get her bearing. To fix this sudden strange gift and the moment in her mind.

And then she nods, once and firmly, that lost daze in her eyes. Yes, yes he may. Now and for always. ]

[ He stays perfectly still, even the gentle rise and fall of the waters seemingly stopping as if the ocean itself has held its breath while the shark awaits her decision, and the moment she nods, the waves wash against them again, endless like time. ]

[ She will take him, then. ]

[ He gives a small nod in return, never breaking eye contact, and lifts her arm just a hint higher so he can lick a stripe up her skin without looking away from her face, cleaning up a streak of red before his mouth closes, surprisingly gently, over the cut itself, and his eyes finally fall closed. ]

[ He doesn't need to see right now, not when he can smell and taste and feel and sense, soft pulses of that beautiful, destructive power bleeding into him and mixing with his own. ]

[ It feels much like a kiss would -- not quite sucking, gentler than that, but his tongue does move against her skin, sweeping up the blood and rubbing in the water that inhibits his own body in return, a hint of a sting of the sea's salt along the edges, pouring a part of his own strength into her in return. ]

[ ~~Is this the extent of the ritual or do they also need to bone to really tie it up? You may decide.~~ ]